


Song of the Heartbroken

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, April Is In My Mistress' Face - Song, Discussion of Past Relationship(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Post 1x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A song and a conversation between two friends after the first season finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song of the Heartbroken

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea Raza Jaffrey could sing. And I listened to this song for an hour after the finale, and I thought that it was perfect song for how Neal was probably feeling. I cried while listening to the song.

_Song of the Heartbroken_

 

            Neal sang whenever he was heartbroken. Not many people even knew he could sing. Only his parents and Mike knew of the secret. Mike had asked him about it one time. His dark-haired friend had only said this. _“When I feel the song come from my lips, it helps.”_ The haunted and vacant look in his eyes made Mike understand what his friend had meant. Even past a year, Mike would never forget of how his friend had sang a mournful French lullaby. Grace had left, leaving the brown-haired attending’s friend with an empty heart and a song full of yearning and sorrow that he could hear even though he didn’t understand the words. He was good. Good enough that at one point Mike wondered why Neal didn't simply pursue a career in music just to piss off his father even more.

            And now. Here he was again, listening to his friend’s mourning through his voice.

            Mike had been a terrible friend lately. He had been so preoccupied with Angus and what had happened that he hadn’t even registered that Grace had returned to Angles. He hadn’t asked Neal of how he was doing, or how he felt about seeing the woman he had once wanted to marry again after a year. The now director of residency hadn’t had time to talk to Neal about anything of substance, and his heart clenched at the thought. He of all people knew of how Neal handled emotions, feelings. Most people in Angles assumed that Neal was the same person as he was in the ER, but it was farther from the truth. Neal held things inside. Since Mike had first met the lonely boy from England, the brown-haired doctor understood there was more to Neal Hudson that most people realized. He felt deeply. The emotions that he felt he kept inside, locked and held deep inside chains. The thoughts that appeared in his mind often didn’t appear because they stayed in his mind. Neal thought deeply about things. Too deeply. Felt too deeply.

            Which was why Mike thought, but never said, that Neal shouldn’t do this to himself. He shouldn’t hold his emotions inside and pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t. Otherwise, the feelings that he kept locked inside his damaged heart would become more damaged than before. Mike didn’t have a high opinion of Grace. He hadn’t since she had damaged his friend, and Mike knew that she still had no idea of how much she hurt him. Neal allowed him to see the broken mess that he had become after Grace had said no to his proposal and left for Haiti. Although the anger burned in his throat, Mike knew better than to say anything. Neal was too forgiving. Too kind. He wouldn’t tolerate the words that wanted to come so much from Mike’s mouth. Perhaps that’s how friends were, Mike thought to himself.

            The fellow attending had heard that Neal and Christa had broken up. He didn’t hear the information from a second source, but heard the sobbing of one of his residents in pain as Malaya held her in her arms. Mike had only just entered the room, intent on finding a good psychiatrist for Angus, when he heard – so he had thought – the cry of a wounded animal. Christa’s broken face echoed in his mind, and Mike swallowed at the memory. He had immediately left the locker room, searching intently for his friend. Again, he was on the roof. A year ago, Neal’s body had been eerily still and a vacant look appeared in his eyes. Mike had known Neal long enough to know of how control was quickly slipping as he saw his friend’s shoulders start to shake and the tightness of his hands as he gripped the fence.

                                    _“April is in my mistress’ face_

_April is in my mistress’ face.”_

            Neal’s voice was as beautiful as ever. The agony and pain seeped through the lyrics, and Mike found himself swallowing heavily as the emotion increased as Neal stopped and took a deep shaking breath. His hands, which Mike could see were by his sides, were shaking.

                                    _“My mistress’ face_

_And July is her eyes_

_And hath face_

_And July in her eyes_

_Hath face.”_

Neal’s voice slightly shook, and he paused. The silence was thick and dark enough for Mike to want to go to his friend then, but then the older doctor heard his friend swallow and continue with the mournful song.

                                    _“Within her bosom_

_Within her bosom_

_Is September.”_

There was a slight crescendo in the last word, the last piece of the month falling and rising with obvious pain. _Just stop singing, Neal._ Mike inwardly pleaded as he heard a faint rasp from his friend’s lips. _Talk to me. It doesn’t do you any good to –_

_“But in her heart,_

_But in her heart,”_

The half cry-gasp came from Neal’s lips before he could stop it. Mike could almost envision the deep pain in his friend’s face and eyes. _This is more than what happened with Grace,_ Mike thought as he remembered of how two weeks had passed before Neal had actually sang his sorrow. A part of him remembered saying nothing but thinking that Neal should be careful after he had told him that he was in a relationship with Christa. He sounded so happy that Mike would never voice his thoughts. And now…

                                    _“But in her heart_

_A cold December.”_

        The crescendo happened again, sounding more painful and seeping with loss than he had heard the last time. Mike couldn’t take it anymore. He walked forward, carefully to make Neal notice that he wasn’t alone. He was so close that he could see his friend’s wide and bright eyes, shining with unshed tears and the pain across his face.

          _“But in her heart_

_Her heart_

_A cold December.”_

 

        Mike wouldn’t allow himself to look at Neal’s crumbled face at the last mournful note. He wouldn’t allow himself to see the vivid broken look, again, on his friend’s face.

      “I know you probably don’t want to hear this,” Mike stated slowly with his voice thickening as Neal sharply turned around. He could see that his friend actually was crying, tears flowing from his eyes and his chest heaving. _He’s not shaking,_ Mike told himself. _Not yet._ “But…can you explain to me what the song was about?”

       Neal didn’t say anything for a moment. He wiped the tears from his eyes even though the liquid kept flowing from his eyes. He swallowed heavily, and looked toward Mike.

      “It’s actually an old song from England.” A deep breath heaved from him, and Mike allowed himself to face his friend. Neal was trying to calm, unclenching and clenching his fists as he blinked. “It…describes a courting relationship between a man and his mistress. The mistress’ face was as beautiful as the spring, and her eyes…as warm as the summer.” Agony again echoed across Neal’s face, and Mike understood that he was thinking about Christa. “But the place where he longs to lay her head is cool, just like the wind and weather of September.”

       “And why is that?” Mike asked.

       Neal managed to give Mike a watery smile. “Because she does not accept his affections. She wants nothing to do with him. And her heart…is even colder. Cold, like frozen ice upon the lake in the dead of winter.”

       “You could be a song-writer too, Neal.” Mike had attempted to lighten the mood with his comment, but there was no response. He sighed. “Listen. You’ve been through this before.” He noted at the corner of his eye that Neal slightly flinched. “You will get over –”

      “I don’t want to get bloody over it!” His friend’s voice rose, cracking with pain and anger. Mike slowly backed away, knowing that when Neal used British slang, he was _really_ pissed. “I don’t want to get over it,” Neal repeated more calmly. “I don’t want to let her go.”

      “She isn’t my second choice,” the dark-haired attending whispered. Tears started to leak from his eyes again, and his face started to crumble. “She never was my second choice, Mike.”

      “Did you tell her that?”

      Neal’s silence was the only answer Mike needed. He steered his friend away from the fence and put his hand on his shoulders.

      “I know you’re hurting. Like before.” Mike softly sighed and looked into his friend’s dark heartbroken eyes. “I had never been pissed off at someone I knew in my life before when Grace left with a shredded heart. It still hurts, when you see her, and I know,” the brown-haired attending said as Neal was about to open his mouth, “that you kept it inside. You didn’t tell Christa because it was too painful. You thought, if you kept the pain and memories to yourself, it would go away. And that she would understand. That was your first mistake.”

        “First?” Neal repeated. He wasn’t trying to wipe away the tears falling from his eyes.

       “Your second mistake was not going after her.” Neal swallowed and looked away. “Hey. Look at me.” The pain in Neal’s eyes was almost enough for Mike to want to embrace his friend, hard. But he held back for just a moment. “I know you, Neal. You think, too much and feel too much to do impulsive and hasty things. And I know, for sure, that Christa feels exactly how you feel now.”

        “Grace told me that she knew me,” Neal whispered, a faint rasp of brokenness in his voice. “That was when Christa…”

        “She doesn’t know you,” Mike stated evenly despite wanting to share some specific words with Grace Adams. “She forfeited that privilege when she said no to becoming your wife.”

            Neal blinked, nodding slowly as he licked his lips and sighed.

            “I hesitated when signing the HR from with Christa, and now I…don’t think I can bear to explain there is no reason for a form anymore.” A soft sob, so soft Mike barely heard it, came from Neal’s lips. “I first heard the song when I was a child, and I never thought I would understand it so much. It hurts…so much because what I had with Christa is gone.”

            Mike heard the song in his head again. It spoke of so much pain, from the death of a relationship and of the love a man had for a woman who broke off their engagement or refused to be her suitor. _Why this song? Why not…the other song like before? French, the language of love, and a lullaby?_

Suddenly the answer came to Mike.

            Neal didn’t simply love Christa Lorenson. Like he had been with Grace.

            He was _in_ love with her.

            As Mike stared at his friend with half-awe and sorrow, he thought about what Neal had stated after the disaster Grace had left behind had mostly healed. _“Perhaps when I met someone else, you’ll be my best man at my wedding.”_ The pain was still there, but there was a faint humor in Neal’s voice as he stated those words.

            “Does the offer still stand?” Mike asked. His friend turned sharply towards him with a bewildered look. “To be your best man at your wedding?”

            “Mike –” Neal started to say, his voice slightly sharp.

            “You may not know what goes on in the hospital and the greasy gossip that goes around,” Mike stated with a faint smirk, “but I can tell that Neal Hudson is in love with Christa Lorenson. Your heart is shaken because of what happened tonight, and you’re probably wondering why it hurts when you haven’t even known this one single woman for a year.” Mike spoke softer now, gentle and tender as Neal slowly started to understand. “You love her, Neal. You’re _in_ love. It’s real this time.”

            “And I can tell when you get back together, you both won’t be able to let each other go.”

            Neal couldn’t speak for a moment. He only stared at Mike, so much emotion in his eyes that the fellow attending couldn’t pinpoint what he was feeling.

            “Thank you,” was his only hoarse reply.

            “Just don’t make me cry when you propose to her,” Mike half-joked. “Christa will have to be the only one with tears that day, otherwise we will all drown. Come on,” he stated more seriously to his friend. A small smile framed his face, and he lowered his hands from Neal’s shoulders.        

             “Where are taking me this time?” The younger attending looked at him with slight confusion and annoyance as he attempted to keep up with Mike’s slightly quicker step.

            “Well, since my last name is English and you’re from England, I thought we could use some tea to cheer us up.”

            Neal looked at him for a moment, surprise on his face before he slowly started to smile and laughter, at least, pealed from his lips.

            It was a sound more beautiful than music.


End file.
